


the prince and his nerd

by screamlet



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 15:58:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18803560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/pseuds/screamlet
Summary: Williamhatedmarriage proposals.Correction: Crown Prince Williamhatedroyal marriage proposals.





	the prince and his nerd

**Author's Note:**

> \+ thank you babygotbackstrom for encouraging/enabling this on in a terrible way

William _hated_ marriage proposals.

Correction: Crown Prince William _hated_ royal marriage proposals.

Once William had turned 21, it was open season on the prince’s hand, and now two years later it had become something of a meme for the sickeningly wealthy to propose to William whether they meant it or not. It was just something _done_ , bidding on the hand of the sovereign's eldest grandchild with hopes to marry into some wealth and stable infrastructure and _that ass_.

Still, William would have liked if someone had actually meant it.

*

Proposals fell into two categories: pragmatic and extravagant.

Pragmatic proposals involved some other royal family sending a chancellor, or some wealthy individual sending a lawyer, to meet with William and state why William should accept their suit. Cash and stock options, sometimes horses, always palaces and/or mansions, never someone who actually knew him or liked him.

(His peers, even the royal ones, were still too young to have firmly established themselves enough to take a spouse, but they were old enough to be given as spouses. Even if William were in love with any of them, chances were slim they would be allowed to publicly declare a relationship, let alone marry, for several years. Anyway, as it stood, none of them were marriage material, and William was in love with none of them.)

Extravagant proposals were lavish wastes of cash done for the publicity, so that some influencer or maniac billionaire could take a break from poisoning the oceans to say that they had proposed to a prince, even if they were never seriously considered. It was enough, wasn’t it, to draw the eye of the Crown and have it swiftly deny a proposal.

If William never again had to see a fireworks barge traveling through the Riddarfjärden, filled with gawking strangers while his name or his face or _whatever_ was lit up in flames and people laughed at him and the spectacle of his life, it would be too soon.

Proposals fucking sucked.

*

The first exception was Nicky, or Nicklas, Baron of Some Sheep Farm Somewhere Honestly It’s Beautiful in the Spring or Whatever, House Backstrom.

“I’m only doing this because my family strongly suggested it,” Nicky informed him.

“You talk to your boyfriend with that mouth?” William asked. “Be nice to me, asshole. I’m sick of marriage talk. You have to take me out to lunch if I’m ever to speak to you again.”

“When will you be in Washington? I’ll take you out to lunch and propose there.”

Nicky wasn’t like other royals. For one thing, he wasn’t deeply insufferable. William knew this because he had known Nicky all his life; William’s father had been some kind of mentor when Nicky briefly played hockey for the Swedish national team, so William had known him since he was a child. Nicky supported William in his annual attempt to also play for the national team, and that meant the world to William.

Nicky was also already not-very-secretly engaged to Alex Ovechkin, the captain of the Washington Capitals.

“I think my family deliberately makes me travel during the hockey season so I don’t get any ideas,” William huffed in the car to their lunch destination. “Out of sight out of mind doesn’t exactly work in the 21st century.”

“You’re still coming to my suite for the game tonight, aren’t you? It’s still early in the season, but the Leafs are playing and they’re always a disaster.”

“The Leafs are good now.”

“Sure, but everyone is so young that there’s always a sense of desperation, horniness, and sadness when they play.”

“What the hell are you talking about? They’re my age.”

Nicky gave him a long look and William punched him in the arm.

It was mid-afternoon, so Nicky bought out a Shake Shack for three hours. They ate and talked and laughed until Alex showed up after practice, ready to eat and talk and grin at William with his broken-toothed smile and stare at Nicky like he was the most beautiful man on earth. Clearly, hockey was already taking a toll on his mind.

“Marry him, William,” Alex told him.

“And then what?” William asked.

“And then I don’t need to make an honest man of him,” Alex said. “You do what you want, we’ll do what we want, and we’ll see each other for the big holidays.”

“It’s not the worst idea,” William said.

“You forgot the part,” Nicky began, “Sasha, you asshole, where you’re the love of my life and I’ve been telling my family this for _eleven years_ now. I’m not going to give them what they want _now_.”

“It’s true, you have so many more years to out-stubborn them into the grave,” Alex said.

“I appreciate the proposal on his behalf, Hockey Chancellor of Washington,” William said.

Alex laughed uproariously and unwrapped another burger.

“No, really! At least you were sincere about it!”

“What idiots,” Alex said. “Who would waste a moment once they were granted a second in your presence?”

William made sure to look very impressed. He glanced at Nicky, who was staring at Alex and deeply annoyed.

“You save that shit for me,” Nicky demanded.

“But William needed it. Don’t be so selfish, Nicky. Your prince was sad.”

Nicky looked less mutinous. William offered him some cheese fries in apology.

“Come on, finish up,” Nicky said almost kindly. “We have to get back to the house so we can nap before the game.”

Alex didn’t wipe his mouth as he pulled Nicky in and kissed the corner of his mouth. Nicky grunted, then elbowed him in the stomach and grabbed a handful of napkins.

“You have to sleep with him, you know,” William said, motioning to the two of them.

Alex laughed. “I like living on the edge.”

 

* * *

 

The Toronto Maple Leafs weren’t interested in Kyle Dubas, they were interested in @KylesHockeyMath. Stats were a thing people whispered about considering when evaluating their players and organization. @KylesHockeyMath had a dry sense of humor, swore mildly, kept their somewhat progressive politics close to the vest, remained neutral on named politicians, and had a real knack for the numbers thing.

The Toronto Maple Leafs offered an in-person interview to @KylesHockeyMath; they didn’t expect Kyle, Duke of A Large Portion of Ontario, to show up with presentations on several topics relating to hockey and analytics, each one concluding with a slide that said HIRE ME, COWARDS **.**

That was four years ago. In the time since, he could have been named the GM for the team, but lawyers and counselors on both sides advised there would be no end to the conflicts of interest. Instead, His Grace Kyle, the Duke of Ontario, remained the Director of Analytics and Research, and the unofficial liaison in: _oh look, there are royals here, handle them YOUR GRACE LOL_.

“Oh, look, there are royals here,” someone noted in the management box at Capital One Arena. “Handle them, Your Grace.”

“Fuck off, Ted,” Kyle replied.

Kyle asked the tech in their box to pull up the view on one of the secured center suites. He knew Backstrom had a permanent suite, but Asshole Ted had said royals _plural_.

“I… don’t know who that is,” Kyle muttered. “Who is that other guy?”

“If you don’t know, the fuck if we do.”

“I said shut up, Ted.”

“You said _fuck off, Ted_.”

Kyle laughed and shook his head. “Back in a few. I’m going to use this nice lull in the Caps giving a shit to go say hello.”

He took the time on his interminable walk around the arena to search his mental roster of the inbred morons who made up that other part of his life, but no such luck. Mystery guy looked young, _really_ young, and really blond, and Kyle just couldn’t place him.

Truthfully, he was more annoyed that there was someone in the peerage who liked hockey enough to sit in Backstrom’s company for several hours and who Kyle didn’t know on sight. He needed more people like that—people who knew hockey and knew the peerage and didn’t think either half of his life was a massive fucking joke.

When he arrived at Backstrom’s suite, security let Kyle and his detail through. Backstrom was already standing, grabbing himself another beer while his mystery guest had his back to Kyle, helping himself to whatever dinner they had ordered.

“Kyle! Good to see you!” Backstrom said. “Let’s drink to Ovi falling flat on his ass after trying to check your Auston. It’s pure comedy out there.”

“Shit, I missed that? Goddammit.” Kyle sighed and took out his phone to check if anyone had sent him gifs yet. “Yeah, I’ll have a beer. The guys upstairs have been talking my ear off all night.”

Mystery Guest approached them at the bar, balancing a stack of taquitos on his plate. He raised his eyebrows at Kyle and looked to Backstrom. “Nicky, you animal, introduce us.”

“Yeah, do that,” Kyle said, though whether the words actually came out of his mouth was really suspect because he couldn’t _breathe_. Who the _fuck_ was this guy with his blondish hair hanging in his face like all of Kyle’s worst 90s preteen crushes? Who was the absolutely criminal stylist who had painted this outfit on him? Who stole Kyle’s favorite perfect blue crayon right out of his grade school memories and used it to color this motherfucker’s eyes? Who the _fuck_ was he?

“This is William,” Backstrom said easily. “Crown Prince William of Sweden, blah blah blah, he outranks us all.” He handed Kyle his beer and looked to William. “William, this is Kyle. He owns Ontario, I guess.”

“That’s me,” Kyle said, like a fucking idiot. “Taquitos are good?”

William took a bite of one and stared at Kyle. “In general? Sure. These? They’re okay.”

“Right. Yup. I’ve just—you know, I spend so many nights at so many arenas seeing so many games, the taquitos all kinda blend together.”

William nodded thoughtfully. “Right. Well. There’s more, if you want.”

Kyle nodded back, then looked at Backstrom, who was _smirking_ at him, the sour-faced asshole who never emoted unless he was at gunpoint or Ovechkin was talking shit.

“You must like hockey a lot, if you’re at arenas so much,” William said.

“Oh yeah, I love hockey, who doesn’t?” Kyle said.

“William, he works for the Leafs,” Backstrom said. “He’s not _just_ a fan.”

“I’m a fan,” Kyle protested. “But, guilty. I also work for them.”

“Didn’t know the Leafs needed any royal advising,” William said. “Is the owner trying to get knighted?”

“No, no, I do stats. Uh, performance analytics is the really hot stuff, but my team monitors everything across the organization. Players, personnel, operations, social media—if there’s numbers, I’m probably involved. Advising, mostly, but they still let me at the visualizations sometimes.” Kyle offered what he hoped? Was a smile? With teeth?

William raised his eyebrows, though Kyle couldn’t tell immediately if he was impressed by his work or impressed that someone had babbled at him for more than ten seconds at a time. To make it worse, he turned away from Kyle to look at Nicky; Kyle couldn’t see his face/reaction, which was probably a terrible sign.

“I’m gonna get some taquitos,” Kyle interrupted. “Since they’re here. And I’m here. Since we’ve ended up here in the same place at the same time.”

That was definitely Backstrom’s laugh as he turned away to examine the spread.

“Kyle, I say this as a casual friend who only sees you a half-dozen times a year—you need to get out more.”

“Getting out is for other people, buddy.” Kyle snatched up a taquito since he was going to commit to this bit until he died, probably. He glanced back at Backstrom and William, then smiled. “Not for us.”

William’s expression softened a little, his mouth less mocking and his eyes gentler than before. His eyes may have even lingered on Kyle.

He was feeling a lot of things, but hopeful wasn’t one of them.

Kyle returned to the visitors’ management box, grabbed another beer, and took a seat at the far side of the counter overlooking the ice. His assistant brought his laptop over and Kyle put his phone face down on the counter, then took a sip of his beer before he got to work learning every single thing about Crown Prince William of Sweden.

“You find your mystery man?” Ted called out across the room.

“Crown Prince William of Sweden,” Kyle replied.

“Isn’t that the Ice Prince?”

Kyle finished the word he was typing, then turned in his seat to face Ted. He took another drink and waited for Ted to keep talking, which was inevitable.

“You didn’t—”

“No, Ted, tell me.”

“He goes viral every few months. Well, not him but his proposals? All these crazy rich people show up wherever he is to propose to him. Fireworks, billboards—he was at some tournament and an asshole bought the jumbotron and played this fan video he had made of him and the prince photoshopped on beaches together, shit like that. Poor kid can’t catch a break.”

Kyle almost spit out his drink. “That’s _him_? Sweden? _Sweden_ is responsible for that nonsense?”

Ted shrugged. “Hot, rich, royalty, famously single. You know a lot of guys like that?”

Kyle did not.

“Anyway, he’s the Ice Prince because he’s been proposed to like, 50 times since he turned 21 and he’s refused them all. Even proposals from real royalty like you.”

“I can’t blame him since everything you’ve told me in the past minute sounds like the stupidest bullshit I’ve heard today.”

Kyle turned back to his computer and began setting up a new notebook for Crown Prince William, which now included that he was a meme and—how did Kyle miss that?

“I guess I would have seen him at Worlds, but we’re always too busy in May for me to make the trip. Goddammit.”

“You okay, bud?”

“Fine, totally fine,” Kyle said as he created topics in his notebook such as: PEERAGE BACKGROUND; FAMILY HISTORY; FRIENDS; RELATIONSHIPS; THE PROPOSAL THING? “I’m working on something, so yell at me if something interesting happens on the ice.”

“Sir—uh, Your Grace—”

The suite tech was holding an iPad up for Kyle, a view on the Backstrom suite he had just left. The iPad didn’t matter since the view was up on the jumbotron in a few seconds, the one of Nicklas, BaronCountFucksomething of Some Sheep Somewhere, holding up what looked like some random cardboard with large and truly butchered sharpie lettering:

**DUKE KYLE**

**CAN I GET UR #**

Kyle widened his eyes as he stared, then he leaned in a little.

There was Crown Prince William, sitting in his seat next to where Backstrom was standing, foot up on the railing, clapping and laughing his ass off.

Ted laughed. “Hey Kyle, _Your Grace_ is on the jumbotron.”

Kyle immediately put on his most charming royal smile and laughed, hoping the cameras couldn’t catch that he was sweating bullets and extremely horny for the 22-year-old Crown Prince of Sweden.

“I’m so fucked,” Kyle whispered to himself as he smiled for the cameras.

*

Kyle woke up hideously early the next morning and found a text from an unknown number on his phone:

_nice meeting you last night! good to know there’s another hockey obsessive in the global peerage out there_

_i’ll be in toronto next week. i’ll see if our ambassador there has a good recipe for swedish meatball taquitos_

“Jesus Christ, I’m the taquito bitch,” Kyle muttered.

_Hey, great meeting you, too! Team’s traveling until Tuesday, but there’s a bunch of home games after that. Come to as many as you want. Have your staff call my staff!_

Kyle stared at his phone and took several centering breaths, trying to gauge where he fell on the scale from stupid to deranged. _Your staff call my staff_ , what the shit was language.

_do the leafs keep you too busy for dinner?_

Kyle fistpumped and took a lap around his kitchen island. Hell yes, the Crown Prince of Sweden wanted to fuck him or laugh at him inhaling some tortellini, either or both were wins.

_Name the place and time and I’ll drop everything to embarrass myself with food again._

_oh no haha you found my ulterior motive_

_it was really funny tho :) nicky thought so too_

_Yeah, he would._

Kyle had a date!

*

William arrived in Toronto ten days later and Kyle’s complex dossier was complete, thanks to his staff’s info gathering when he had to go back to obsessing over his job. He limited his own searches to the public domain and left his staff to inquire whether after any buried scandals, just in case William had literally murdered someone and Kyle was next. (He hadn’t, as far as they could tell, but if the dick was good Kyle wouldn’t mind dying by the sword, so to speak.)

The prince invited Kyle to his hotel downtown. Kyle had been there a thousand times, but never when it was locked down for visiting royalty—apparently Kyle was too much of a local nuisance to bother locking any part of Toronto down for him. The sovereign’s suite was familiar to Kyle, though, since it was one of the most secure in the building and the place where his parents stayed when they visited the city.

“I would’ve taken you out to dinner,” Kyle said as they enjoyed their drinks in the sitting area of the suite. William took one of the armchairs and Kyle took a seat at one end of the couch, the closest seat to William.

“Oh,” William said. “Yeah, I don’t do that.”

“What? Have dinner?” Kyle made to get up and William laughed. He leaned over to grab Kyle’s wrist and make him sit down, like that was necessary. Kyle put on his best cool bluff face, the better to enjoy William laughing and his cheeks turning a hot, bright red.

“Yeah, I try not to have meals out in public with people. Nicky bought out a Shake Shack for me and he’s one of the exceptions, since my family likes him and he hates the marriage nonsense as much as I do,” William said. “There’s always someone watching for gossip, or someone’s trying to set up another proposal, so.” William looked around for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s all right. Pay a restaurant enough and they’re more than willing to come over and put a meal together wherever I want, so it’s not all bad.”

“You think that’ll change?” Kyle had his drink in his hand, whichever basic ass hotel cocktail popped into his mind first, and he glanced down quickly at the glass before he looked at William again. “When you’re married. Or engaged, even.”

“Oh, it _better_ change once I’m married,” William said. “I hope I can actually live my life soon, when someone younger and more beautiful pushes me out of the spotlight. Has to happen, right?”

Kyle let his eyes linger on William, smirking as he said, “I wouldn’t count on that.”

William smiled back at him. “Fuck you, you fucking flirt.”

Kyle took an extremely innocent sip of his drink.

“What are you after, anyway?” William asked. “Do not enough people tease you about how bad you are at improvising?”

Actually, that was _exactly_ the case, and Kyle tried not to show his surprise.

“I wasn’t improvising, I was making conversation.”

“That night I met you,” William clarified. “You didn’t know me and stammered about taquitos before you rushed out the door and disappeared into your laptop. The arena’s an oval, you know, we could see you from our seats.”

“I didn’t know you were looking.”

William raised his eyebrows. “More fool you.”

Kyle laughed and put his drink down on the coffee table. He took a moment, then leaned forward and pushed the coffee table about a foot away from the couch. William watched, put his drink down on it, then climbed into Kyle’s lap, the coffee table well out of the way of William’s surprisingly long legs as he settled on Kyle.

As Kyle got his bearings, steadying William with his hands on William’s hips, William cupped Kyle’s face in his hands and stared at him.

Kyle took a breath and stared back; William was searching, but he knew he was being searched, too. Kyle saw miles and miles of _want_ , and not just to ride Kyle within an inch of his sanity on this couch with both their security details in the bedroom, _well_ within hearing. He could see William’s loneliness, too, something he saw often enough in the mirror every day.

William leaned in and kissed him, his hands moving to Kyle’s neck so his thumbs could brush against the sensitive spots under his jaw. Kyle kissed him back, trying his best to pull William into the kiss and against his hips. He pulled William’s meticulously tucked shirt from out of his suit pants and rested his hands on the bare skin of his back, holding William tight and listening to William’s soft moans. This would teach both of them to “dress up” for “dinner,” but that was part of the job, wasn’t it? To look the part in addition to the crushing loneliness and hooking up with near strangers who relied on Kyle’s discretion as much as he relied on theirs?

Kyle broke the kiss to breathe, one hand on William’s back as his other palmed at William’s dick through his pants. William tried not to wince, but he was rock hard and laughing about it as he kissed Kyle again.

“Do you want to take this to your room?” Kyle asked. “The one right over there without our scary security guys in waiting?”

William nodded and leaned in to kiss Kyle again, pushing himself into Kyle’s arms, making himself moan as he rubbed his dick against Kyle, who was surprised he had even found the words _your room_ , though the thought standing and walking 20 feet to the bedroom was becoming increasingly difficult.

Of course, just as Kyle found William’s belt buckle, William pulled away and climbed off of Kyle’s lap. He tried to make it look easier than it was, but then William threw a grin over his shoulder at Kyle as he entered the bedroom. He was taking off his suit jacket in the doorway, shaking out his hair, and his smile was so warm and happy and _sly_ , like he had stolen exactly the thing he wanted. That was ridiculous, since Kyle had made it absolutely clear he was there for the fucking and the taking.

Kyle took a breath, then another, and then followed William into the bedroom, gently kicking it closed behind him.

*

TRULY GODDAMNED AMAZING THINGS ABOUT HRH THE CROWN PRINCE OF SWEDEN:

The way he had mastered his eyelashes fluttering when he came on Kyle’s dick;

The way his skin always seemed to glow, no matter the place, no matter the lighting;

The way he shook Auston's hand and asked, in his best polite royal voice, _And what is it that you do?_ ;

The way he cracked up when Auston cracked up, unleashing a hideous little cackle-chuckle that made Kyle’s heart melt and his dick twitch like, just on this side of too much for a work event;

The way he texted back either within 5 seconds of receiving a text or 12 hours later, never in between;

The way he grinned when Kyle got excited about something extremely niche and stupid that William absolutely didn’t understand;

The way William and Kappy met and had gone from mortal enemies to best friends in 90 minutes without revealing to Kyle a single step in that dance;

The way he had trained his bodyguard to capture his best angles, perfect to send Kyle when he was traveling;

The way he had no compunctions, whatsoever, to screaming as Kyle fucked him;

The way he gently suggested Kyle visit his own stylist because his haircut looked “just a little rough around the edges, in a good way, but Rudolphe is so good, I promise;”

The way he patiently watched videos his advisors had sent him, more proposals from around the world (Japan, New Zealand, and three in Russia alone), and how his expression would dim as he watched, and the way he moved into Kyle’s arms like Kyle made it better without actually fixing his unfixable problem.

It was, to Kyle’s surprise, a long list, growing longer with every visit William made to Toronto.

Less to Kyle’s surprise was the realization that he didn’t want the list to end.

 

* * *

 

William’s family knew about Kyle. His siblings, his parents, his grandparents the King and Queen, his security detail, yes, everyone knew about Kyle.

William was too scared to take that any further, with his family or with Kyle.

It shouldn’t have mattered since William had only just turned 23. His grandparents said that he didn’t have to rush into anything further, with anyone. It was important he take the time to establish himself as a firm diplomatic presence on the world stage who took his responsibilities seriously, as well as his charity and outreach work.

All of that was a laugh, of course, since they had been the ones to usher William into this new stage of life, the one where his hand was on sale to the highest bidder and society saw him as a laughingstock.

And then he had met Kyle. Maybe they would Officially approve of Kyle, especially since he was significantly older and established in his own (somewhat lesser, no threat to the crown) right. However, one of the requirements of the William’s Husband position was that they live in Sweden, particularly as William prepared to ascend the throne. It required them to support, wholeheartedly, that William would become the King of Sweden, and that could happen in 30 years or next week. Would Kyle be willing to live like that? Kyle wasn’t a prince in line to inherit his own throne, so he could, but would he be willing? A different question that William was also afraid to ask.

_Saw a new trip pop up on your calendar- Chicago’s practically next door. For once I could come to you, things are quiet here._

William wanted, wanted so much and wanted him.

_yes please_

_It’s late, what are you doing up?_

_idk i was sleeping but just checked my phone_

_Want me to call?_

William stared at the text, sighed to himself, and typed _yes_.

“Hey. You all right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s three in the morning, pal. Don’t know who’s adding shit to your calendar at 3 AM in Stockholm—”

“It was probably Lydia at the embassy in Chicago,” William said.

“Oh, right. Makes sense. When am I gonna get editing rights to your calendar?”

William couldn’t help but laugh. “You want that?”

“I want anything you’re willing to give me.”

William sucked in a breath.

“God. Kyle. You can’t just… fucking say shit like that.”

“What? It’s—I know it sounds like a joke but it’s not. You should know that by now.”

“Should I?”

“Is this because I called you _pal_?”

“No, I know that’s Canada talking.” William turned on his back and sighed, rubbing his hand along his face. “I don’t know, I’m just—I can’t sleep, I’m not making any sense.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, I get that, but I’m serious, Will. I’ll say it again: I want anything you’re willing to give me.”

That, in a nutshell, was the trick of being the Crown Prince, and William was surprised that Kyle knew it, or seemed to know it. Kyle was a duke and anything lower than a sovereign in his own right meant that he could never _ask_ William for anything—he could only hope that his wish was granted or whatever.

That nonsense didn’t apply to the secrets of their life together, where Kyle begged for William’s mouth or asked what William wanted to eat or grabbed a remote out of the Crown Prince’s hand and then held it over his head until William pushed him over and dove straight into kissing him. That nonsense _did_ apply to their Official Relationship and any steps they took together where anyone could see them.

Kyle, when he spoke again, was gentler than William had ever heard him. It was like he was right there in the room with William, like he knew how dark it was in William’s room, how quiet it was in Stockholm at 3 AM, how a normal speaking voice could scare the moment and startle them both into ignoring this was happening.

“Anything you’re willing to give me, I’m here, William.”

“I want you,” William said. “I know it’s only been—god, it’s been _one_ hockey season. Fall to spring. And I know I’m young, and maybe it’s because of all the Ice Prince stuff, and people clamoring for pieces of me and you—”

“You’ll be in Zurich next month,” Kyle interrupted. “Tell me when you’re free and I’ll come to you.”

“No, Kyle, I don’t mean—I mean, I always miss you—”

“I know what you mean. Find me two hours. I’ll be ready.”

William stared out the window of his bedroom, feeling a strange mix of baffled and reassured. Maybe it was trust. Maybe this was what trust felt like. He didn’t quite understand what Kyle was going to do, but he trusted that it was something that William needed.

He hoped, actually, that he knew what Kyle was going to do.

“Okay,” William said. “That’s in three weeks, Kyle. Think about it. And think about me. I’m young and—”

“I’m always thinking about you,” Kyle said. “From the moment I saw you hanging out with Backstrom, some royal hottie whose name I didn’t know—”

“Oh, shut up, you’re not _always_ thinking about me. I’ve seen that graphing calculator you keep on your desk that you’ve had since high school.”

“That graphing calculator is our _friend_. I showed you all the formulas to draw dicks on them and you act like that’s not a gift.”

William was quiet again, but he was smiling. He hoped, when he spoke, that Kyle could hear that. “Skip Chicago. I’ll see you in Zurich in three weeks.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in three weeks. Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

“Okay. Good night.”

*

For three weeks, nothing changed.

William traveled and Kyle worked. William hosted events and smiled and wore suits and loose-fitting slacks with polo shirts and smiled and Kyle worked.

They texted and FaceTimed and emailed and sent each other stupid videos and memes. Kyle said that too many of his hockey players dropped by his office every day to talk about a hilarious thing William had said, and Kyle wondered who would get the Toronto Maple Leafs in their divorce.

It was a joke that made William pause and smile, then laugh too hard as he said he had already contracted Auston and Mitch and Zach to come to the SHL next season. Kyle choked on whatever he was drinking and called it attempted murder.

For three weeks, they were themselves.

*

In Zurich, Kyle was waiting for him outside a community garden, eyes fixed on his phone as he typed furiously. William watched him for a long moment, then walked towards him, security in tow. Dozens of people had walked past Kyle on the bench, but Kyle looked up as if he knew William was coming. He brightened when he saw William, but his lips were pressed together in a fine smile as he got up to meet him.

Kyle motioned to the entrance. “Should we take a walk?”

William nodded. “The gardens are beautiful, and there’s a great view of the city from inside.”

“Lead the way,” Kyle said, and William did.

They walked for a while without saying much. They stopped at some of the garden plots and features, pointed out interesting and funny things to each other, snapped photos (but not of each other), and walked. They were both doing their best to ignore the tension between them, but the garden was only so big and Kyle had said he wanted only two hours.

“So here’s the thing,” Kyle began. “Back in my suite, I’ve got the mother of all presentations. I’ve got charts and graphs, some stupid little interactive features. I brought brain-shaped stress balls branded with my coat of arms? I got a little Carlton bear wearing a tuxedo? Okay, _maybe_ it’s just a polar bear wearing a tuxedo like a little groom and legally he can’t be named Carlton, but I don’t give a shit and I named him Carlton.”

William laughed and slipped his hands into his pockets so he could avoid holding Kyle’s hand. If anyone deserved it, in public, in Zurich, it was this fucking idiot.

“I’ve got a presentation on the history of Ontario and my family’s claim to it, I’ve got an overview of _your_ family on the throne. I’ve got projections for pretty much every area that might be affected, positively or negatively, by a potential marriage between the Crown Prince of Sweden and the Duke of Ontario. Will, I did _focus groups_.”

“Most people just pack a carry-on bag,” William noted.

“I know, right?” Kyle asked. “My point is, I came prepared to do one thing in Zurich.”

They stopped walking and faced each other on the stone path. William glanced down and saw that Kyle’s hands were in his pockets, too. There they were, William thought, both of them refusing to hold each other because they were _both_ fucking idiots and this was why the world was a broken and awful place, because fucking idiots couldn’t just admit they were hurt and scared and needed a hand sometimes.

William held his hand out, palm up. Kyle looked down and then looked into William’s eyes as he placed his hand gently on top. William nodded and covered it, clutching Kyle’s hand in both of his own.

“I know you did,” William said. “It’s funny you say that, that you came prepared—”

William glanced away and tried to clear the lump in his throat, the tears forming in his eyes. It was beyond him how so many asshole strangers could do this to him without a feeling for him as a person.

“I can do this alone,” William said firmly. “If the worst should happen tomorrow and I took the throne, I could do it alone. I could put aside my life for my country and I could find my own happiness later, when I settled into my responsibilities. I could do it alone, but—fuck, I don’t want to, Kyle. I don’t.”

“I know you could,” Kyle said, nodding eagerly like the absolute nerd who had strolled into Nicky’s box months ago and babbled about bar food and math for ten minutes. “I know you’re smart and dedicated, you’re calm and you’re so steady. You don’t need anyone to play the game for you.”

William nodded. “Of course I don’t need anyone to play the game for me, but I would like someone to play the game _with_ me. And I hope—depending on how good your presentation is—”

“Shut up, you know it’s awesome,” Kyle whispered.

“Depending on how much your proposal impresses me—”

William looked down at their hands, still pressing Kyle’s hands between his own. He looked at Kyle again, through his thick glasses and into his hopeful eyes. God, he looked _hopeful_ , like he _wanted_ William to ask him.

Like he wanted William.

It was so obvious and yet so shocking, still, after all this time, that someone was with him in a situation with a marriage proposal and they _wanted_ to hear what William had to say and whether they had a future together.

William finally took a breath and looked at Kyle.

“I hope that you would consider marrying me,” William finally said. “And it’ll have to be a long engagement, and we’ll have a lot to—”

“Yes,” Kyle said. “I said yes. I already—yes, I’ll marry you!”

“All right, calm down, I heard you,” William laughed.

“I mean, _did you_ , because you just kept going and going and—god! That was fucking _stressful_!”

“All you had to do was stand there and not laugh at me,” William protested. “And now you have to shut up and fucking kiss me.”

William was prepared for another five or ten minutes of bickering with Kyle, but then Kyle’s hands were on him, on his hip and on the nape of his neck, pulling William close and kissing him. It was absolutely too much kiss and too much tongue for the middle of the day in downtown Zurich, but William clutched Kyle and held on, kissing him for the first time in what he hoped would be their happily ever after.

Kyle broke the kiss when one of their security detail cleared their throat to get their attention, but then Kyle pressed his forehead to William’s and laughed again. “Does this mean you don’t want to see my presentation?”

“You’ll have to rehearse it for me before we take it to my grandfather,” William said. “Don’t worry, I’ll heckle you in all the right places.”

“I wouldn’t accept anything less.”

“What happened to anything I’m willing to give you?”

“Heckling’s free, I should get as much of that as I want.”

William grinned and kissed him again, because that was a promise he could keep.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/screamlet) | [tumblr](https://screamlet.tumblr.com/post/184834976906/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] the prince and his nerd](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307572) by [momopods (momotastic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/momotastic/pseuds/momopods)




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